The de Vere Deception (David Thorne Mysteries Book 1) (34 page)

Chapter 84

When Thorne awoke he didn’t know how long he’d been out. He couldn’t see, and then he remembered the tape that had been put across his eyes. He was bound to the chair and tried to move his taped wrists. He gradually recalled Kelly’s foul breath as he bound his wrists. He had purposely tried to move his hands around as Kelly had bound his wrists, and the lip balm residue had prevented the duct tape from adhering to his wrists. Now he was able to move them around inside the tape. He pulled hard and rotated his wrists for fifteen minutes until they were free.

            Jerking his body violently from side to side he loosened the tape wrapped around his upper arms, and after a few minutes, it loosened enough to move his hands around to the front. He reached up and grabbed the tape that encircled his upper body, and alternating his hands, pulled it upward over his head until he was free. He winced as he slowly removed the tape that clung to his eyebrows and mouth. The tape wrapped around his ankles came off easily

            He ran to the back room where the unconscious Gweneth was slumped in her wheelchair.

            Her hands were tightly bound and rested in her lap. He slowly removed the tape from her mouth, and loosed the cords wrapped around her small body. When she started to fall forward he caught her, and secured her to the wheelchair by loosely re-wrapping a length of tape around her upper body,

            She was still unconscious as he pushed the wheelchair through the house to the front door. He turned the deadbolt from the inside of the door and cautiously looked out. There was no one there. He pushed her out onto the porch, and scanned the neighborhood

            The small house was evidently a guest house set to the rear of a larger house nearer the street. The large house appeared to be empty, and there were high weeds in the back yard. The next house was over two hundred feet away, and he headed in that direction with the wheelchair.

            Gweneth began to regain conscious as he knocked on the side door of the next house. With a hand placed a hand on her shoulder, he said softly, “Don’t worry, Gwen, it’s David. You’re safe now.”

            “What happened?” she asked groggily.”

            “Just know you’re safe. The others have gone.”

            A small man wearing a cardigan sweater and smoking a pipe opened the door. “Hello,” he said cheerfully as he looked down at Gweneth. “How can I help you?”

            “We have an emergency. May we come in?”

            “Of course. Is she all right?”

            “Yes. I’ll try to explain later. In the meantime could she have a drink of water—and could I use your telephone?”

            The man tamped out his pipe. “Righto. She does look a bit done in,” he said as he went to the kitchen

            Thorne dialed and waited. “Inspector Hammersmith, this is David Thorne. Gweneth Bada and I have been kidnapped. We’re free now, but I need to have you come over and pick us up immediately. Can you do that?”

            Hammersmith said, “Yes. We’ve been notified that Gweneth Bada had been kidnapped. Give me the address.”

            Thorne turned to the man who was now giving the glass of water to Gweneth. “Can you please give me your address?”

            Thorne repeated the address into the telephone, and Hammersmith asked, “Do you know who they were?”

            “Only one of them. I’ve had an encounter with him before. I’ll fill you in later. They kidnapped Gweneth and forced me to remove documents from the castle. I’ll tell you more about it when I see you. Also, could you please contact Gilbert Bada and tell him Gweneth is all right?”

            Hammersmith asked, “ Do you know where they may have gone?”

            “No, I only heard one of them, a small blonde man named Brent who appears to be in charge, say something about the ‘R and what’. They gave me a sedative and I must have drifted off at that point. I didn’t hear anymore.”

            Hammersmith said, “That must be the R and G. That’s the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern place east of Bridgetown. It’s a restaurant and bar—and a well-known tourist trap. Don’t worry, I’ll send plainclothes people over to the R and G to wait for us and make sure no one leaves. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”

            “Good. Please send an ambulance. Gwen should go to a hospital.”

Chapter 85

Carrying the briefcases with the documents, Kelly and Brent threaded their way through the crowd at the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern bar room to the private back room. Inside the darkened room, they saw a man sitting at a table at the head of the small conference table

            “Don’t turn on the light, Kelly. Bring the briefcases over here.” Kelly set the briefcases on the table, and sat down. “What is this, Kelly? I thought I told you to come alone.”

            Brent remained standing and said, “I thought you wanted both of us to deliver the material

—I thought you knew.”

            “I knew nothing of the sort. What about Thorne? I assume he has been taken care of?”

            Brent walked to the other end of the table. “I’ll take care of him after I leave here.”

            Kelly said, “Why don’t I unpack the briefcases for you.” “No, Kelly, I’m only interested in certain portions of the documents. Mr. Brent can deliver the balance to his client.” He placed a small flashlight on the table and went through the stacks of documents in front of him, separating out certain documents and placed portions of the stacks back into the briefcase.

            “This is what I’m looking for. Pack the rest of the documents back into the other briefcase and give them to Brent.”

            As Kelly packed the remaining documents, Brent said, “I’ll relay these to my client, but first I have to go to the loo. I’ll be right back.”

            Inside the rest room, he removed a small metal cylinder from his pocket and screwed the suppressor on the barrel of his automatic pistol. Back inside the room, he held the pistol behind his leg. “It looks like we’re done here.” A mischievous smile creased his face as he raised the pistol level to the chests of the two men at the other end of the table.

            Kelly was the first to respond. He threw a sheaf of papers at Brent. Momentarily distracted, Brent’s first shot swished past Kelly’s head and thudded into the wall beyond. The second caught Kelly in the forearm as he rushed out the door and slammed it behind him. Brent’s third shot thudded into the closed door.

            Brent wheeled around and saw only a flash of the other man’s dark coat and the briefcase he carried. The man pulled a small automatic pistol from his coat pocket as he disappeared into a butler’s pantry at the other end of the room.

            The lock inside the pantry clicked into place, and the man slid out of his dark coat and dropped it on the floor. Clutching the briefcase and gun, he continued through a door into another conference room. The room was being refurbished, and there were drop cloths and cans of paint on the floor. At the other end of the room, a stepladder reached almost to the low ceiling. Still holding the briefcase and gun, he scrambled up the ladder. At the top, he pushed the two by four acoustical tile panel up and climbed into the space above the ceiling. Hoping to conceal his presence, he reached down and pushed the stepladder until it toppled over, folding up and crashing to the floor. It required effort, but he still managed to slide the ceiling panel back into place before easing himself onto the cross member supports.

            He was panting from the over-exertion and he froze, listening for any movement below.

Chapter 86

In the rear parking lot, Hammersmith and Thorne met with three policemen. The man in charge said, “I’m sorry, Inspector, but we had no idea who we’re looking for. We do have the entrances blocked off and no one has left in the past twenty minutes. We’re detaining everyone in the main room of the bar.”

            Hammersmith gestured to Thorne. “This man can identify the two who should be in there.”

            Just then, there was a scuffle at the rear of the building as two uniformed policemen led a big man through the rear door. Blood was streaming down the his arm.

            Thorne exclaimed, “There’s one of them!” “That’s Kelly. The other two must still be inside.”

            Hammersmith pushed Kelly against the wall of the building. “All right, where are the other two?”

            Kelly’s face was contorted in pain. “I need to go to the hospital— I think— I think the bone’s broken in my arm. I need help!”

            “You’ll get it when you tell me where they are,” Hammersmith snapped. “Who are they? Give me names and descriptions.”

            “In a back room— the middle room— they’re in a back room—two of them. I can’t think. It hurts, it really hurts—get me to a hospital. I’m bleeding to death!” he screamed.

Back in the conference room, Brent quickly realized the attempt to kill the other two men had failed, and began to load the documents back into the briefcase.

            There was a commotion in the bar room. A policeman was ordering the people in the bar against the wall. Brent stopped and thought about his predicament. He no longer had any intention of taking the documents with him. No one here knew him. He would just have to abandon the documents and fake it. He wiped his prints from the gun and placed it and the shoulder holster in the briefcase with the documents. Then he removed his black raincoat and tie, and moved slowly toward the door. He took a roll of dark hair from his jacket and unrolled it. He put the wig on and smoothed it down.

            There were a few people milling about in the hallway as he slipped across the narrow hall to the rest room and into a stall. He took off his rimless glasses and donned a pair of horn-rim glasses, fitting them to the bridge of his nose as he quickly removed his jacket.

            As he unbuttoned his dress shirt, he exposed a yellow tee shirt displaying a Guinness Beer logo. He took off the dress shirt and wrapped it in his jacket. As he exited the stall, he stuffed the rolled-up jacket and shirt into a waste can, and glanced in the mirror as he moved slowly to the door. He grabbed a glass that had been left on the shelf in the restroom, and ran water into it. He opened the door and waved the glass at a passing policeman, “What is it, officer? Whash the matter?”

            The policeman said, “There’s been a shooting, Sir. No one can leave the building. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to go into the bar room and wait with the others.”

            “Of course. How awful—fully dreadful,” Brent said in a slightly slurred voice. “Do they have the perf—perp—etrator?”

            The policeman ignored the mumblings of the drunk and went down the hall, ordering those milling about to go to the bar room.

            Brent staggered slightly as he went into the bar room. His eyes darted left and right taking in the scene. He picked out a small homely woman standing alone against the wall. He went to her and hooked his arm into hers, hoping to give others the impression they were together.

            “Oh my, this is exciting, isn’t it? Do you mind if I stay here with you? I’m dreadfully afraid of gunfire. Was anyone hurt?”

            She appeared flattered and relieved to see him. “A big man ran through here, and then went out the back. He was bleeding bad.”

            Brent casually adjusted his horn-rim glasses and put on his most charming persona. “That’s terrible. I was just back there, but I didn’t see anyone.”

            They found a table near a window and sat down. He checked the window to see if it was locked. It was, and he casually unlocked it before returning to the table. He pretended to listen to her as he calculated his next move.

Chapter 87

Hammersmith spoke casually into his cell phone before directing the policemen to question everyone in the bar room. He took his time as a ruse to allow Thorne time to search the faces in the room.

            Thorne scanned the room. In the corner of the room, he saw what he was looking for. He recognized the face on a small man at a table against the far wall. There wasn’t a single short-haired blonde man in the room, but this face was the right size and shape. The long dark hair, oversize glasses and yellow tee shirt couldn’t overcome the image of the face Thorne remembered.

            He looked hard at the man across the room and waited for him to return his stare. Brent casually looked in the direction of Thorne, and their eyes locked. Brent realized he’d been made and realized he had to make a move.

            He rushed to the window and threw up the lower portion of the window. Twisted his body around, he went through feet first. He landed on the ground six feet below and braced himself against the side of the building. He turned to his right and saw three uniformed policemen advancing. Reversing his direction of escape, he was immediately smothered and forced to the ground by two other policemen.

            He went limp as his hands were roughly pulled behind his back and handcuffed. “It’s all right,” he said with resignation. “Take it easy, I’m not going anywhere.”

            Thorne poked his head out the window and exchanged looks with Brent. “Where is the—?

            Brent, the professional to the end, shrugged and with a wane smile said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Thorne, I can’t help you.”

            Thorne turned back to Hammersmith. “No help there. I have no idea who we might be looking for, but I know he’s still here, and he probably has the documents with him.”

            Hammersmith’s assistant whispered something in his ear, and he motioned for Thorne to follow them.

In the meeting room, two plainclothesmen were unloading the documents, pistol and shoulder holster from the briefcases. Thorne went immediately to the documents and examined them. He said, “Some of the records are missing. He’s got them, and he’s still in the building. Make sure no one leaves.” He tried the door to the butler’s pantry.